


The Deciding

by Fayghost



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Mind Control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 09:54:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3846544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fayghost/pseuds/Fayghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"And as I'm sure you've learned, I'm nothing like her."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Deciding

He is right where she left him.

Of course he is-- he isn't permitted to move. The chains are hardly necessary before the final steps, barely more than a bit of theatrics that she's allowed herself. And why not, after working so hard? It's not like anyone comes down to look, nowadays. If they had any curiosity, it must have been sated back when she would parade him around. There was no longer any interest to dodge, not even Pyrope's. After a little suggestion, of course.

The point being, escape was impossible. She had assured it.

He is quiet, unresponsive to her presence. Not even a ripple of his mind under her firm hand, not even a swell of fear or reluctance, as he had sweeps ago. She almost misses it, because it was a little exciting-- certainly a welcome reprieve from the monotony of meteor life-- but he's long since gone still. All the same, she greets him with a bright, fanged smile to match his own.

“We're almost there. You know what _that_ means.” Despite her tall posture and purposeful grin, there's barely a thought to be felt, as if his pan has turned into a slab of gray, unresponsive meat from disuse. Not impossible, she decides, but ultimately inconsequential. Still, she feels impatience. “Come on, aren't you even a little excited? Typical! Be a good clown and show a little enthusiasm, and I might even let you drink one of those sodas. You know, as a treat.”

Finally, something moves there, and it's much more likely to be genuine interest than confusion. He's used to this particular kind of jab. He probably would perform for some kind of sustenance, if she let him degrade himself like that. Not so much, down here where no one can see. It's all about appearances.

“What, not very convincing? I guess you know better, hmm?" She folds her arms, deciding somehow this almost disappoints her. “Don't worry, though. _She_ might as well be miles away. And as I'm sure you've learned, I'm nothing like _her_.”

Even the interest in the offer of soda fades back into stillness, and so does her smile.

“You really don't have to take this so hard. You could even enjoy yourself-- don't you find it poetic? She always wanted to be Mindfang, and now, she has what she wanted. Isn't there just something great about that? Why, it might even teach her a lesson or two. And Terezi... oh, it was clever, alright. It took me a while to figure out what to do. I should thank her-- as should you. This presented such a wonderful, _symmetrical_ opportunity.”

Though her own amusement with this is great and grand, marveling at the genius of it all, there's only the usual silence from the clown. If only he would summon a nod, a thoughtful hum. How torturous, that he is her only company! But not for long, she muses. Oh, not for much longer at all. She just had to come down here and share the last moments with him, the energy sparking quickly up and down her arms. If nothing else, he doesn't need to be bribed to remain attentive.

“Come on, you have to think that's a little bit amusing, hmm? I'm only trying to cheer you up. You're the only one in a position to appreciate all of this, you know.”

Whatever had come to light in his pan is gone now. She wonders if he's hiding from her-- she digs around in that mind, scraping up the sides, messing things up like you would rustle silt from a streambed. She doesn't find any part of him but the pain that comes from injury. The sigh that escapes her is one that betrays boredom, not exasperation.

“Feeling magnanimous, then? Or just tired? Well, fine. I can't expect you to appreciate what it takes to pull this off. I'm extremely meticulous-- the weaving of tangled webs, and all. Sometimes I even confuse myself! Or her.” She grins again, knowingly. “But it's all for the greater good. It'll work out, just as I told you.”

She comes closer, takes a seat on the ground in front of him. She didn't bring any soda, (making her threat/offer empty), but she does nudge the bowl of water closer, waiting a moment before she makes him take a drink. She scrutinizes him with all eight, perfectly formed eyes, but there's not a budge. Not even fear.

“At least I can tell you about it. I complain, but it's been so nice to finally have someone who will just _listen_... I want to make sure we part ways on an understanding. It's so miserable to be just outside of their attentions, I know. Never important to anyone. Imagine what I'm going through, to endure all of this without getting any credit for it. We're very much alike, really!” She gives him a consolatory pat on the calf, contains the physical shudder easily. At least he caught the joke.

“But I'll endure, for the cause, as will you.” A thoughtful smirk, before she continues. “I think in some ways, I'm starting to get used to it all, actually. A vanishing mediator, quietly pulling the strings before a grand reveal is suitably dramatic... and the crowd! They're very nice people."

"That's the most compelling feature of this whole twist, I think. Vriska never really understood what she had, being alive. What she was doing wrong. It was all right there in front of her, and yet she never could put the pieces together.” A diminutive tsk, from her lips. “But I do. And now, with just a little guidance-- well, a lot-- we both have what we want! ...It's going to be a little tough to give it up, even. Oh, but I'm only joking. I would never.” She leans back, sighs, folds her arms again as Gamzee drains the bowl. “Between you and me-- and her-- I just think she doesn't really appreciate what I'm doing for her. She's very lucky, indeed, for me to have fixed it all up. Call it nerves. I only hope she'll do as well when I'm gone.”

She watches the pulse of his throat at the last swallow, and has him put down the bowl. He still smiles, and that is all.

“Oh but you, you're the luckiest of _all_ of us. You're so important, Gamzee, you really are. Wrapped up in a web of karma and tragedy... truly heartbreaking. It's beautiful-- I'm grateful to have been allowed my quill in the inkwell, so to speak.” She drops all mannerisms of her descendent, smiling reassuringly, folding her hands together above her knees. “Believe me, I understand how lonely it is, but I'm glad you've come to play the necessary parts so well. Don't worry, I'll tell them all about you-- when it's time, of course. Any sooner would just cause unnecessary drama, I think. We wouldn't want to put you-- or them-- through any of that. It would be so cruel.”

She makes him nod, which he does. It always used to draw at least some reluctance, but there's none of that now.

“If I let you go, I wonder if you wouldn't just ask me to take you back, again? Would you even know how, if I let you?”

Silence. Completely. She finds it comforting.

“I would trade places if I could. I swear it. But I, unfortunately,” She holds out her-- Vriska's-- arms in demonstration. “Need to be here, as much as you need to be _there_. And speaking of which, I can hardly delay any longer, you understand. It's nearly showtime. I just wanted you to know everyone is going to be just fine. Karkat, especially. I've made sure he's very, very happy. And it's all because of us! Well, _me_. But don't forget your contributions are integral.”

Seeing nothing else to be done, she rights herself, dusts off the knees of her pants, and stands with a sigh. It's so good to be able to take these little breaks with him, allow herself her own personal habits. Soon. Soon, she won't have to at all. She won't have to borrow this young, foreign body, or deal with the constant indignant clamoring of the thinkpan held tightly under her own.

He's still listening, awake, and if she stayed she might be able to wrest more from him. Maybe even some last words to pass along to his friends. But there's no time. Before she goes, she tests the chains-- for emergencies, at this point, not wanting a repeat of _last_ time, no sir. They'll hold long after the meteor goes through the gate, after which she'll have to be creative. She's sure he could gnaw enough flesh off his hands to slip them through the cuffs, if she made him. Gruesome, but doable.  
  
Someone had to be willing to stoop to the unscrupulous. They were dealing with _real_ evil, after all. It wouldn't stop just because someone wasn't willing to get a little dirty.

And she would be the first, the deciding factor. Her heart even swells, a little.

“No need to thank me,” she says, jostling the last chain, checking the restraint about his ankle. “It's the least I can do, to make it as painless as possible. Now go on. Meet your destiny.”


End file.
